


Malec Malaise

by Fluxx



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Caretaking, Getting Stuck In/Isolated Together, M/M, Sick Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:53:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23219572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fluxx/pseuds/Fluxx
Summary: Magnus has a cold! In the absence of his magic, it seems he managed to catch some common Mundane bug. Well, that should be fine. Nothing a little rest and tea can't take care of... right?
Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Comments: 4
Kudos: 30
Collections: Lock Down Fest





	Malec Malaise

“Achoo!”

Everyone huddled around the command table stopped what they were doing. With quick glances, they checked on each other, silently verifying everyone was okay.

Well, everyone except Magnus.

“Achoo!”

They all stared at him a moment, each with varying degrees of intrigue and uncertainty. For Clary, it was perfectly unremarkable, but for everyone else there hung a bit more gravity to the situation - even Magnus himself seemed wary, wide eyes blinking in surprise over the crook of his hovering elbow still shielding his mouth. “Are… you alright… ?” she hesitantly asked, looking to her fellow Shadowhunters for any indication of why everyone was so tense.

“Well, Biscuit,” Magnus replied, muffled by his silken sleeve, “no. It would seem I’ve caught a cold.”

Jace recognized her confusion and jumped in next, sparing her any embarrassment from her confusion. “Warlocks don’t typically _get_ sick. Their magic’s too powerful for any Mundane illnesses to take hold and actually have any effect.”

Magnus backed away from his arm just enough to carefully inspect his sleeve. “I must say - as far as ‘first Mundane experiences’ go, this was _not_ at the top of my list.” Satisfied he hadn’t inadvertently sullied himself, he finally lowered his arm, but nonetheless backed a few paces away from the rest of the group. “Ah… What a time to be portal-less.”

“Come on,” Alec replied, grabbing his jacket off the table. “Let’s go get you some meds and soup.”

“Oh, Alec!” Magnus chuckled. He made to playfully lay his hands on Alec’s chest, then belatedly remembered he was _sick_ and quickly pulled them away. “It’s just a silly cold,” he continued. “No need for you to worry. I’ll just get myself home, brew myself some herbal tea, and curl up in front of an old movie. I’m sure, with plenty of rest, I’ll be back up and at ‘em in no time!”

Alec wasn’t so sure, but he didn’t want to discourage Magnus. The old Warlock was having enough trouble adjusting to a magic-less life _without_ Alec coddling him and making him feel even more incapable. So, he simply nodded and resigned himself to picking up some medication on his way home - just in case. “Alright then,” he sighed, setting his jacket down again. “I’ll see you at home.”

The day carried on fairly uneventfully after that - as uneventfully as it ever really got around the Institute, anyhow. There was a demon spotting up around the Bronx that Jace and Clary dealt with easily enough, and a minor scuffle Izzy helped Simon smooth over with some out-of-town vampires, but nothing all that noteworthy. It was a welcome, rare breed of benign that saw Alec heading home in fact a little earlier than usual. He took advantage of the extra time by stopping in to a hole-in-the-wall soup shop Magnus _insisted_ was better even than some of the offerings in Shanghai itself, picking them up a piping hot dinner to go. Precious cargo in hand, he swiftly traversed the remaining few blocks separating him from their loft, eager to get home as soon as possible without jeopardizing their food.

“Magnus?” he called as he eased the door open. He poked his head inside first, scouting to make sure he could keep their dinner hidden until he transferred it into some bowls. Seeing the coast was clear, he slid the door shut with the back of his heel, then swiftly crossed into the kitchen. As he set about fetching a pair of bowls and Chinese soup spoons, he idly kept glancing around the corner towards their room. The faint, muffled sounds of the television leaked out, the individual sounds too blurred for him to discern but the overall tones distinct enough that he could identify the general feel. Some kind of drama, with the occasional metallic accent of sword fighting, all dressed with a slightly dated warble. _The Count of Monte Cristo_ , he silently guessed, thinking through all the movies Magnus had subjected him to from his expansive collection. He hoped it didn’t speak to Magnus’ mood, but nonetheless thanked his past self for having the forethought to pick something up that might brighten his spirits.

Their dinners successfully transferred, he gently, _carefully_ , picked up both bowls, then stepped as agilely as he could across the loft to the bedroom door. It was cracked, just barely, but still he gave Magnus the courtesy of knocking against it with the tip of his toe, giving him plenty of notice before softly slipping across the threshold. “Magnus? I brought you some dinner… ?”

At first, Alec didn’t see Magnus in the bedroom, and his brow pinched with confused worry. “Magnus?” he repeated, setting the bowls down on a nearby dresser - couldn’t risk spilling them, in case something was amiss. As his eyes scanned the room a second time, he at last caught the smallest tuft of spiky black hair poking out from the edge of their comforter, and his worry shot through the roof. “Magnus!” he cried, bolting from the threshold over to Magnus’ bedside. He knelt beside the pillows, one hand carefully lifting the comforter so he could peek under and check on his sickly boyfriend.

He looked like _death_.

“Ugghhh,” Magnus groaned, watery eyes rolling up in meek search of Alec. Huddled beneath the covers, he was mostly hidden, but even still Alec could see the weary wrinkles around his eyes and the congested droop of his lips and the beads of sweat decorating his hairline.

“By the Angel, Magnus!” Alec gasped, laying his free hand upon Magnus’ forehead. “You’re burning up!”

Languidly, Magnus blinked. Somehow, he managed to utter a single word. “Tea… ?”

“No,” Alec grumbled at him. “You need _medicine_. And nourishment! When’s the last time you ate?”

Even in so dismantled a state, Magnus apparently had energy enough to pout, then bumpily roll himself over under the covers so his back faced Alec, incoherently grumbling the whole time.

Alec could only sigh and shake his head. “I brought you your favorite? Chicken dumpling soup from that place up the street?”

At last, some progress - sort of. Magnus glanced over his shoulder with wide, eager eyes - but seemed equally disparaged. By now, Alec knew him well enough to guess he was probably convinced he wouldn’t be able to keep it down.

“It’s worth a try,” Alec encouraged, standing upright. As he rose, he plucked the remote from Magnus’ bedside table and clicked off the television. It elicited some pointed mumbling from under the comforter, which Alec presumed was something along the lines of “watching that.” He rolled his eyes as he fetched one of the bowls. “No, you aren’t,” he asserted. “You’re going to eat some dinner, and then you’re going to _rest_.” His foot hooked and pulled over Magnus’ vanity stool so he could sit down beside the bed, already spooning out a dumpling and blowing the steam off the warm broth.

The very _last_ thing Magnus wanted to do was let Alec spoonfeed him… but, that soup smelled _really_ good… and his stomach _was_ rumbling… So, at long last, he begrudgingly scooted himself just high enough for the pillows to elevate his head and opened his mouth.

Alec smiled warmly down at him, then gently lowered the spoon to Magnus’ lips. Slowly, very slowly, he tipped the spoon, letting the warm broth trickle over the edge and into Magnus’ mouth, then finally let the soft dumpling bump up against the edge. When Magnus opened his mouth wider, Alec helped him take the dumpling in his teeth, then diligently watched to make sure Magnus wasn’t too sickly to properly chew and swallow. Watching the telltale movement of Magnus’ throat, Alec grinned, then gathered another spoonful. “See? That wasn’t so bad, as it?”

Magnus’ scoffed. Apparently, he was already starting to feel a bit more like himself, this time approaching the spoon with a much more princely manner. “It’s _very_ good soup,” he replied matter-of-factly.

“Of course,” Alec chuckled, just happy he’d gotten Magnus to eat something. “I’ll make sure to compliment the chef.”

The night continued fairly uneventfully after that. Alec managed to get Magnus through most of his soup, then transferred the rest into a tupperware. By the time he got around to eating his own, it had gone cold, but that didn’t bother him - he just popped it into the microwave, taking comfort in the knowledge Magnus was quietly sound asleep.

He took advantage of the minute-long delay to fire off a text to Catarina. Head cold or not, he imagined the illness would take some kind of toll on Magnus’s mental outlook. Who better than a familiar, age-old friend, who happened to be a nurse as well as a fellow Warlock? She’d likely have unique insight on how the sickness would affect Magnus both physically and mentally - and might even be able to squirrel away some medicine, to boot!

Alec expected Catarina would be worried. He had _not_ expected her to suddenly rip open and pop through a portal in their living room. “Quiet!” he frantically chastized, waving his arms as he ran over to her. “He’s _sleeping_!”

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?!” Catarina scolded, the portal swiftly snapping shut behind her.

The microwave’s timer went off. Alec bolted back into the kitchen to jab the door button before its blaring disturbed Magnus. “Owowow, hot! Hot!” he hissed, precariously coaxing his dinner out and onto the kitchen counter. He smacked the door shut, then quickly - quickly as one could with piping hot soup, anyhow - fished out a dumpling and some broth to enjoy before dealing with Catarina. Who was, by the sounds of it… unpacking a ton of stuff in their living room? He frowned, then stuck his head out of the kitchen to frown down the short hall at her. “What are you doing?”

“What does it _look_ like I’m doing?” she grumbled. “You two are a couple of bachelors,” she explained, pulling can after can out of a canvas bag. Next came a few boxes of pasta, and then a few bags of produce and a box of surgical masks. “Do you have _anything_ stocked here?”

“Uhh,” Alec mumbled awkwardly. He guiltily eyed the pantry, knowing full well its contents. Or, rather, its lack thereof. “Look, Cat, is all of this really necessary?” he deflected, fleeing the kitchen to inspect the cans she’d unloaded upon their coffee table. They were all soup, though it seemed she’d at least given them a variety of types. He picked up the box of masks and showed them to her. “What do we need _these_ for?”

“Magnus is _sick_ , Alec!” she emphasized, finally pulling out and tossing his way what he’d actually asked for: two boxes of cold pills, one daytime and one nighttime. She stared at him a moment, then slumped with exasperation. “You really don’t get how serious this is, _do_ you?”

Alec hesitated, eyes shifting side-to-side in wary confusion. “It’s… just a head cold…”

“For a Mundane, maybe,” Catarina replied. “And yeah, when it got to Magnus, it _was_ just a head cold. But diseases thrive by evolving. Adapting. Magnus may not have his magical defenses, but his DNA is still the same. That’s all a microbe cares about.”

As Alec followed along, realization dawned on him, and the gravity of the situation along with it. “So… if Magnus passes it on to someone else…”

“It will have adapted to being in a Warlock’s body,” Catarina confirmed, firmly pushing the box of masks back towards Alec. “Learned how to infect Warlock bodies. He could pass it on to other Warlocks, despite their magic.”

“Well, your magic will still help you battle it, right?” Alec asked hopefully. “Keep you healthy?”

“That’s arguably worse,” she explained. “If they’re asymptomatic, they could unwittingly pass it on to a Mundane. I’m a nurse. I could pass it on to an infant in NICU, or a recovering patient.” If her words weren’t enough, certainly her expression clearly outlined just how worried Catarina was about the whole thing. It hadn’t been long - Alec guessed this was something she’d spent a lot of time thinking about over the years. Obviously much more time than _he_ had, anyway.

He sighed, but ultimately nodded, yielding to her professional judgement. “Alright, aright,” he replied, picking up a few more cans of soup to carry to the kitchen. “So, what’s that mean? I can make sure he takes his meds before I head to work and right when I get home—”

“Uh-uh,” Catarina unceremoniously interrupted. “You aren’t going _anywhere_.”

“What?!” Alec cried, once more sticking his head out of the kitchen to glare at her. To his horror, she had turned her back on him, and was throwing her hands up in the air. As she did, a sheen shot up along the wall she faced, and then she turned and did the same for the next, and the next. “Stop!” he yelled, running back out to the living room and grabbing her arm.

Quick as a whip, she deftly dodged his hand and jabbed a stern finger in his direction. “No chances! You two are on quarantine until this thing passes.”

“But why _me_?” Alec groaned. “I’m not sick! And I have work to do!”

“Because _you’ll_ be taking care of _him_ ,” she argued back. “For the next two weeks—”

“Two weeks?!”

“—I’m the only person in and out of this apartment, you understand?” She threw her hands back out, quickly finishing off her last wards. “And when I do, I’m not leaving this room. And it’s only for necessities!” The wards complete and the supplies deposited, she snatched up her canvas bag and pulled out her phone. “So, what do you need from work? Laptop? Any files?”

“Catarina, come on,” he bargained. “I can’t slay demons if I’m stuck inside this loft!”

She fixed him with a harsh glare. “Nor if you - or anyone _else_ at the Institute - catch Magnus’ cold! Look, I know it sucks, but we have to be careful. Colds aren’t burns or cuts or broken bones, they’re ongoing micro-level fights. This isn’t something you or the others can just Iratze away.”

That didn’t really help. “So we’re just supposed to sit around and wait?”

“You’ll be _fine_ , Alec,” she encouraged with a smile. “Our bodies are fascinating organisms. They’re capable of amazing things if you just _let them work_. I get a front-row-seat to the intersection between the divine and the Mundane, and _most_ of my patients don’t get an ounce of help from my magic. In some cases, it’d even disadvantage them in the long-term if they did. So just… be patient. Enjoy the forced alone-time with your boyfriend.” She smirked, and offered him a knowing wink. “Be happy you’re not going to have a surprise in nine months.”

“ _CAT_!” he practically shrieked, face immediately flushing beet-red.

But another portal had already popped into existence behind her, and she was throwing a wave over her shoulder. “I’ll be back tomorrow with your laptop! Text me if you think of anything else you need, okay?”

“Cat, _wait_ —”

An instant later, as suddenly as she’d arrived, the portal collapsed upon itself and Catarina was gone without a trace. Alec released an aggravated groan, spinning around to throw himself back into a nearby chair. Only then, rubbing his temples in frustration, did he notice a particular pair of chocolaty eyes peering out through the bedroom’s ajar door, their occupying face pouting out from under a tight-clung blanket. He sank guiltily in his chair. “Sorry. We wake you up?”

Magnus shrugged. “Never really went to sleep,” he mumbled. He pointed at the boxes of pills on the coffee table. “Those’re for me?”

“Yeah,” Alec sighed. He sat up and reached over to fetch the nighttime box, deftly tearing open the flap and ripping off a pod of pills to toss Magnus’ way.

Magnus easily caught them in the folds of his blanket, then set about fumbling with the plastic casing to free his ticket to a good night’s sleep. “So… We’re stuck here, then?”

“Yeah,” Alec replied. He stood up and grabbed the box of masks, waving them in the air. “She brought you a new accessory for your wardrobe.”

“Ah, wonderful,” Magnus croakily mused. “Medical Chic. Always wanted to try it.”

“Well, you’ve got plenty of time to, now,” Alec scoffed. He placed them on the kitchen counter and returned to his soup. _Lukewarm_ , he mused to himself, but by now he was too tired and hungry to care. At least, this way, he could scarf it all down more quickly without burning himself? He fished himself out a dumpling and dumped it in his mouth. “Two weeks.”

“All to ourselves?” Magnus pretended to marvel. “What _ever_ shall we do with all that time?”

Alec glared at him, mouth already stuffed with another dumpling. “ _Rest_. And medicate.” He finished chewing, swallowed, then pointed at Magnus with his spoon, offering a playful smirk. “Then, and _only_ then… maybe I’ll let you subject me to _Casablanca_.”

“Oh, lucky me!” Magnus swooned, rolling his eyes and dramatically twirling back into the bedroom. “I’d better get to it, then!”

“I’ll be there in a bit!” Alec called after him.

Okay, maybe he was _a bit_ excited for two weeks of mandated isolation with his boyfriend. Catarina’s forcing of it definitely helped - doctor’s orders, they _didn’t have a choice_. But that was no reason to suffer through it… They may as well make the best of it, right?

_But first_ , Alec thought, licking his lips and lifting his bowl, _soup!_


End file.
